


To Think, To Dream, To Be

by Bibliophile030



Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: Brother dynamics, Brotherly Bonding, Demonology, Family Dynamics, Gen, Overprotective Brothers, Pacifism is not equal to lack of fighting ability, canon itself will be thrown out the window at some point, headcanons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-17 11:51:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15460773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bibliophile030/pseuds/Bibliophile030
Summary: In the beginning of the worlds, there were eight and one who ruled all of Gehenna. Then a time came when thought gave rise to form, and these eldritch beings became a part of Assiah's history rather than observers. However, this only ended in tragedy. The eight's bodies fell to ruin. Seven chose to return. One did not. But fate seems to have other plans.





	1. Sleeper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably messed up the order of kings, but meh, whatever works in the story.  
> Enjoy

Long, long ago, the worlds of Assiah and Gehenna coexisted in relative peace. Demons would travel to the material world occasionally, but for the most part, humans stayed ignorant of their dark visitors.

For the most part, except for the few who interacted with the strange spirits and gained insight.

What is known today as a masho – a wound inflicted by the denizens of the other world 0 opened the soul to the previously seen as if a veil was suddenly stripped off.

And not only seen but _heard._

Their lesser kin told the humans stories. They spoke of greater beings of power, masters of their home world.

The eight sub-kings and the ruler of Gehenna.

These nine great beings back then did not interfere with the material world beyond Gehenna restricting themselves to watching from afar, incapable of manifestation unlike their weaker vassals who could take on a physical (if borrowed) form there.

But as more and more humans passed on their kin’s stories of the nine rulers, their words began to give them shape.

Until one day, the forbidding spirits took an actual shape in Assiah.

Sight. Sound. Touch. Smell. Taste.

Their new bodies opened a new realm of possibilities and reasons to visit Assiah in more than spirit.

It was luxurious. It was decadent.

It was a temptation pulling every one of the eight sub-kings into the material world from their very first day of not merely observing but _experiencing_.

It was the moment of their fall.

Assiah and Gehenna were not meant to be so closely tied. They whose very essences embodied the darker spirit realm could not last.

After a bit, a timer began to tick away; a race between regenerative capabilities and the corrosion eating away their new bodies.

One could liken it to a defense mechanism, as if Assiah’s immune system slowly recognized the Ba’al as a dangerous foreign body and mercilessly attacked them if slowly.

Bodies eroded, starting with the greatest of them: the oldest of the Ba’al, Lucifer King of Light.

They would then vanish back into their original state in Gehenna; for the most part, the kings would try to return, taking over a new body from Assiah with a thirst for physicality plain.

Over time, the bodies of the kings would erode sooner and sooner, pain and agony searing into memory as the kings decayed even as they walked the world of Assiah.

To continue the analogy, the world’s immune system got better at identifying then eliminating the foreign entities it rejected in its entirety.

Turning the clock forward, the King of Light’s possessed bodies don’t even last ten years in the present day.

How that galled these ancient beings, gods among mortals and spirits.

Humans paid the price for the kings’ frustrations.

Why should they, a people so fragile and weak, have the privilege of a physical body?

Thus, a vicious cycle emerged.

Slaughter, disease, war, and unnatural disasters swept through Assiah as the Ba’al convinced one another to lay siege against humanity, their kin following along.

Mischief turned to mayhem.

Some of their kin never forgot the uncensored heights their lusts reached in those bygones days and eagerly continue even as some of the kings withdrew.

Lines were drawn. Some demon kings saw how humanity, their bane and blessing as both the envied and mocking and the only way they can experience the world of Assiah consciously, would disappear if the Ba’al continued their rampages.

Over 2000 thousand years ago, these enlightened kings gave humans the means to fight back.

The True Cross Order was born.

One of those kings to guide the first generations of exorcists was the King of Spirits and Air, Azazel.

He, along with the two members of the Sol Shemihaza and Armumahel, chose not to seek new bodies, allowing their first incarnations to return to nature and the world that created them.

The King of Spirits returned to Gehenna. Tired greatly from extending his existence on Assiah for so long, far, far beyond physical and spiritual limits, he slept, soul drifting within the dream plane, one of the few access ways between the worlds aside from Gehenna Gate.

Seldom used since only spirits travel their ways to observe, never to manifest according to the restrictions.

Of all the eight kings, Azazel was considered the only truly passive one, capable of genuine kindness unlike his much more violent and selfish brothers.

Human in the ways they did not, could not, understand. Azazel would admit the management of his domain played largely into his strangeness, specifically the care he took to certain kin including ghosts, demons born of humans and emotions.

He tended to his them as dutifully as the others, human origins and all. So, as a consequence he learned to understand humans, too, better than most of his brothers.

Even Samael admitted his older brother knew more of humans than himself.

Time passed.

His soul twisted closer to waking, disturbed.

The thoughts and emotions of the lesser and greater demons flooded his resting place.

They whispered.

Something unspeakable happened. Their god of Gehenna, the highest king of demons Satan left their world for a time.

Satan has incarnated onto Assiah for the first time in eons.

His kin, other minor demons, and even his own brothers reported the Ego as something truly unnatural.

 _Insane_ , the braver ones thought in the darkest part of their minds.

It should not have happened, _never_ should have been a possibility for a proper vessel to support their sire who _wholly_ embodied their world in the ways the eight kings did not.

He would tear into Assiah even as the world struck back.

It was no natural occurrence or process, a feat possible due to his brothers’ scheming and overt interference in the material world most likely.

Either way, the true king of Gehenna would never be the same again.

Like them, the concept that was Satan evolved into something else: the Ego who craved Assiah like human stories said.

Long ago, the King of Spirits fell asleep in Gehenna.

Only to awake to a voices unfamiliar in the world of Assiah.


	2. Brother, Who Art Thou

Azazel’s first thought was somehow he had once more incarnated into a new body.

Something that has never happened for any of them since that forgotten age millennia ago, their first incarnations.

However, things did not feel quite the same.

For one, he could see nothing. Two…there were not only voices outside coming into his “hearing”, but voices reaching from what felt like the same general area; his own mind.

At first, the King of Spirits couldn’t decipher the thoughts brushing against his, as if a great barrier blocked the words until they were muffled shouts booming hollowly across a vast space.

An unknown time passed, and the block disappeared.

He could hear properly and understand.

He was not in his own body but rather sharing the mindscape with someone else in a manner Azazel could probably conclude as distinctly unlike a demon possession (although, his conclusion was mostly theoretical as he never chose another body after his first incarnation, so he could not say he had prior experience he could relate beyond second-hand accounts from his fellow demons and brothers).

The human was called Rin. He had a younger and frail twin brother named Yukio and they were part of ethnicity called Japanese.

They lived in a monastery, and Azazel suspected their guardian and his fellow priests were exorcists of the True Cross Order. They had the distinct feel from what the demon king could glimpse from the young boy’s eyes. The echo of knowledge in their eyes, litheness and movement coming from battle experience, a general sense of secretiveness and well-meaning.

Azazel came to many conclusions over the years inhabiting child.

Rin was about four when Azazel first came to manifest in his head and could properly observe through the boy’s senses.

Rin was of a demonic lineage, a Nephilim of probably a greater demon considering his great strength and inability to get along with normal children unafflicted with a masho and no supernatural background to help understand the aggressive young boy.

Strangely, Rin did not seem to possess the natural sight if he was a Nephilim. Living in the heart of a city, Azazel should have very well seen through Rin’s sight a few coal tars by now if the child did.

But Yukio, the younger twin, he could see them, the demons walking among humans.

He flinched at phantoms, teared up at the sight of air, and ran from unseen pursuers from what the Spirit King could infer from the corner of his…host?...’s eyes.

After Rin turned seven, another boundary between their shared mindscape fell.

* * *

_‘He-hello? Who’s there?’_

Azazel blinked (mentally). Was this another stray thought (albeit unusual) from the young child?

…even though Rin was tucked into bed, his twin brother long asleep in their shared room.

_‘…am I going crazy? I can hear weird whispering in my head like some nutcase so maybe…’_

Azazel’s mental eyes widened.

_‘Hello, young Rin.’_

_‘…!!!’_

A mental image of wide blue eyes and the emotions of utter baffle tinged with fear echoed through their two minds.

Azazel sent back waves of soothing feelings, trying to keep the child from broadcasting his emotions into a very physical manner.

What seemed like hours but was probably only a minute or two passed.

_‘…is there someone there? Who are you? Am I going crazy for real?!’_

Azazel worded his next message carefully. _‘To answer in order of relevance: no, you are by no means ‘crazy’. There is no one else in the room with you, per se, other than young Yukio. As for myself, I am Azazel, the King of Spirits.’_

The ‘Demon’ part, he left out for rather obvious reasons.

With children, it was wisest to take things a step at a time.

Especially as Rin gibbered back about how Azazel didn’t make the slightest sense even as the demon king tried to explain how he was a spirit somehow cohabiting the young child’s mind.

The boy brooded for several days, adamantly ignoring the voice in his head.

Azazel couldn’t find it in himself to be frustrated, only amused as the boy crafted a mental wall within their shared mental plane. It was crude for a psychic projection, and Azazel subtly guided Rin through subconscious dreams on how to strengthen the mental wall if only for the child’s own sake, but it wasn’t a bad first attempt.

While the boy did not have the aptitude for traditional learning (much like many of his more combat-guided brothers, the demi-human child would learn best from doing not listening), he did have an excellent imagination and will.

Slowly, Rin began to lower the wall of his own volition and ask Azazel questions.

Why was he in his mind?

_‘That is a question I keep asking myself since I first came to be here with you.’_

Followed by, how long has Azazel been some sort of creeper?

At that, the Spirit King snorted quietly, finding Rin’s lack of manners and his familiarity rather endearing.

 _‘I believe I first came to awareness when you were perhaps three or four years of human age. Although, I only began to hear_ and _understand your thoughts and other senses after what appeared to be your fourth birthday.’_

Geez, how old was Azazel if he spoke so formally? What kind of name was Azazel anyways? Was Rin being possessed?

 _‘I am older than I think you could imagine or comprehend, young Rin. You can consider my name biblical in origin, as Azazel is the name of a fallen angel, the angel of death. And, no, we are_ sharing _a mind. Demon possessions take a person’s conscience and more often not simply bury it deeply within the victim’s mindscape. If they’re not outright destroyed.’_

Wait…demons, like Oyajii’s demons?

_‘Yes.’_

Silence. Azazel suggested they end their talks for the night and continue this conversation after Rin slept on it.

This opened a whole new round of questions.

The demon king did his best to answer the child’s question, dodging material related to the eight demon kings and their progenitor as something Rin should learn preferably several years later. But, Azazel understood the value of knowledge and the price of ignorance.

He spoke of the myriad types of demons, the five basic elements with simplified images to help get the points across (visual aids did help a bit better than simply telling the very active and impatient child).

He didn’t always tell the whole story or gave _complete_ answers, but he did answer honestly, whether omitting the more mature facts or simply saying he would tell Rin he could not say.

Not yet.

That day arrived too soon when Azazel first saw undeniable confirmation of Rin’s demon heritage.

* * *

Rin was nine and lost his temper that day spectacularly badly.

Azazel had always advised Rin that if he could not avoid a fight (as the second eldest, he had a heavy hand in raising his younger and usually very confrontational brothers. Sometimes, there were not enough words in all of Gehenna to get a young demon to restrain their more bestial natures), the young boy should also strive to not get into trouble.

He taught Rin through dreams how to dodge, overseeing Rin repeat the same exercises in the real world.

Rin found a balance of sort, not getting into as much trouble as he could have as he learned to weave around the bullies and punks, letting them humiliate themselves.

They probably tried to pick on him more, and sometimes Rin couldn’t always control himself, substantiating his reputation as a demon child, but the boy did his best and got into less trouble in the long run.

He learned to find his center through meditation, to fight and not fight through grace and cleverness, and to learn patience through the wiser and soothing voice in his head.

Azazel smiled internally when Rin began to refer to him as Aza-nii.

Then came the accident that put the nickname into perspective.

Rin had lost his temper spectacularly as Azazel previously mentioned.

By spectacularly, the demi-human had utterly flared up at the new knot of bullies picking on little Yukio at the park.

At the time, it had recently rained and there were puddles everywhere.

Water reflected, as his younger brother Egyn proudly stated when listing why his domain was so much better than Amaimon’s in spite of the elemental weakness (Amaimon had a terrible temper back then and attacked the Water King. Considering Amaimon stood seventh of eight, and the eight was decidedly not Egyn…he lost rather badly).

As all of the bullies had a few years and several inches on Rin, it was a doubtful battle from the beginning.

Times like these made the Spirit King regret his current existence as a disembodied voice in a young child’s head.

Worried over Rin’s battered state after one of the bullies managed to finally get away from the boy’s initial furious charge and swipes and held the youngling down, Azazel didn’t see the changes taking place in the mental plane as the boy’s frenzied emotions peaked.

Not until the impression of a dark blue mindscape suddenly brightened into aquamarine.

The usually airy designs grew into something similar to fire and flames.

Then he finally understood with dawning comprehension and trepidation as he saw through the film of Rin’s mounting anger into a nearby puddle.

White-blue sparks fluttering around his tiny body and eyes no longer human blue but with the slightest tints of blue flame and crimson.

The eyes of a demon and the beginning of a fire no ordinary human could have.

Nor any Nephilim recorded. Until now.

Rin wasn’t just the child of any high-level demon. He was Azazel’s brother in truth.

He was the son of Satan, a budding demon king in the making.

 _HHe mdfade must be under a powerful seal_ Azazel thought to himself, his musings tucked under a shield even while he kept up a second steady stream of thoughts to trickle lightly against Rin’s mental shields – erected mostly so the younger and less experienced could focus without hearing Azazel’s thoughts when the elder lost focus on his own shields.

He would rather not startle the boy nor give him any reason to distrust his teacher for hiding things so blatantly.

He had a new baby brother. Two new baby brothers.

Half- _human_ baby brothers.

How? Why?

 _It must have happened that time. When Father’s Ego first manifested,_ the demon king concluded.

This changed everything.

Azazel could not delay the missing parts of his lessons any longer. Neither of them could afford it.

Yukio appeared for all intents and purposes human. He had not a single shred of demonic aura, sight, yes, but even a sealed demonling should show something. Even Rin had the behavioral problems a child of Gehenna commonly showed due to the genetic memory of a harsh and unforgiving environment.

Although, something of Yukio’s behavior did remind Azazel a little of his more competent (and dubiously moral) brothers like Lucifer and Samael.

A wearer of masks and deception.

Most likely, Yukio did not inherit initially demonic traits and may not be under a seal at all except maybe a natural one. As frail as the pale child was, the satanic power probably slept dormant.

As the years passed, it would progressively require something extreme for the boy’s current balance to give away and his other heritage to appear.

 _How troublesome younger brothers can be_ the Spirit King sighed.

Rin dragged Yukio home, both boys pretty dirty with the former having blood and many scrapes and bruises added on top of that.

Father Fujimoto, the head priest of Southern Cross Chapel, his _dad_ , was not the least bit impressed.

The dark-haired boy frowned. Aza-nii’s thoughts were not constant things, sometimes the other needed his own headspace and retreated to his own corner of their…what did the guy call it?...mindscape, impressions of a great crystalline dome cordoning off that area filtering into the boy’s mental eyes. It looked really delicate, but Rin knew from firsthand experience nothing seemed to even as much as put a crack in the shield. If anything, Rin’s ‘attacks’ would actually phase through and emerge on the opposite side without ever entering the darn thing.

Now the usual brush of thoughts had stopped entirely, and there was a strange sort of silence instead.

Rin decided to let the elder have his space at least until after dinner and homework.

_‘Aza-nii?’_

No response.

Rin tried again, louder.

Nothing.

This time, he would not like to admit to the edge of fear creeping into his telepathic voice – as Azazel called this weird thought talking.

_‘I am still here, young one.’_

Rin didn’t bother to hide the waves of relief. Azazel had done so much for him.

He could have just ignored him and his petty problems, could have let the child continue to gain enemies and run into trouble “like a headless chicken and just as much common sense” the gravelly voice humored.

He could have led Rin astray and freed himself from being stuck with a demon child like him.

( _‘You are not what they say you are, young one. You are Rin, a precious child. More human than most, sometimes. And who is it to say all demons are bad, hmm? Are not there friendly kitsune as much as unfriendly ones? Helpful spirits? What of dragons, Kirin, or gods? Are they not counted among your people’s yokai?’)_

But no. The voice in head advised him, taught him with dreams and urgings to do better the next time ( _‘Think not of what you could not do but what you did accomplish. Every small step forward means progress. And you do have your own talents. Different from Yukio’s gifts, yes, but you are Rin, are you not? You each have your flaws, strengths, and desires. Remember that’)_.

_‘Rin…we need to talk. Do you remember how to enter the mindscape fully?’_

By meditating, Rin learned how to distance himself from his body, to enter his own mind as if it really was a place and not a concept as Aza-nii said it was.

Rin still didn’t quite understand, but whatever.

His mental self ‘looked’ around the mindscape. There was something different, but the nine-year-old couldn’t pinpoint what exactly had changed.

“Rin.”

Azazel’s mental image was strange. It seemed it couldn’t decide on an age, sometimes an old man with really long white hair no one brushed in forever, sometimes a younger guy, a teen or something. Sometimes he was older, not dad-old, but like some of the other priests.

Still young, but recognizably a grown man.

They all sported the weird white bathrobe, though.

“Aza-nii, what’s up?”

The elder male sported a strange look. Serious, worried, anticipating (disaster).

Rin decided he did not like at least two of those emotions if only because the second was something Rin knew the older man always felt because he was an older brother and saw Rin as his younger brother as well. Just like how Rin worried about Yukio.

“Rin…there are some things I need to speak to you about.”

Azazel began by reviewing the history of Assiah and Gehenna. He spoke of new additions to the tale of demons and spirits and gods on earth, of the great rulers of the mirror world where those entities held ties.

He described the fall of the god-like beings, their increasing rage against fate, and the war between the two worlds.

He spoke of the gods’ diverging ideals, the line, no, rift opening up between the two forming sides.

One side taught humans and the order of exorcists emerged to fend off the hordes of demons.

One side hated humans and plotted a way to take Assiah for their own.

He put faces and names to the eight members of the Ba’al, what humans called demon kings.

Rin grew very still when Azazel named himself among them, giving out his proper title: Azazel, the _Demon_ King of Spirits and Air, second born and sixth in the hierarchy of sub-kings (if only due to his mild nature viewed as loathed weakness among his brethren).

His voice lowered as he named the very heart of Gehenna, its Demon God Satan who had no Ego at the time of when the Ba’al walked the world. At most, the god only very lightly brushed spiritually on the material world, usually in the forms of wisps and flames.

Then the disaster sending all of Gehenna in chaos as the Demon God vanished from their world if only briefly. The demon king told Rin of the disastrous emergence of _His_ Ego and his probable rampage on Assiah as a result (“I can’t say for sure since I only know this much because my kin and family’s thoughts were so clamorous they reached the dream plane where I was residing at the time).

Finally, Azazel confronted the heart of the discussion, describing how Satan’s most prominent symbol of power and the most destructive of his literal powers were his blue flames.

Accompanying this was the memory of Rin’s earlier fight, changeling eyes and blue-white preceptors to flames.

“You and Yuko are my youngest of blood kin.”

 _You are the youngest sons of Satan_ , echoed, unspoken but very much heard by the young half-demon.

Azazel’s voice fell silent. Rin stood in the mindscape, stock-still. Too long navy-tinted bangs hung low, obscuring the young boy’s expression.

“Am I a demon?”

Azazel looked solemnly at Rin, but his voice remained the same resolved if soft tenor.

“You are Rin. A child of Assiah.”

“A child of Satan!” Rin burst out, hysteric.

Sobs shook his body, and the fragile balance tipped.

Rin hate himself. He always knew there was something wrong with him but…he really was a demon, wasn’t he?

Something soft enfolded him.

“As am I,” the older man – demon – reminded him.

“A monster.”

“No, you are Rin, more human than most full-blooded humans at times.”

Rin shouted, “How can you say that? I break people bones, I beat the shit out of everyone, and they always say I’m a monster, a demon! And it turns out they were right! And what would you know, huh? You’re a liar and a demon!”

Azazel held on tighter despite Rin’s squirming and repeated shoves.

“You are my precious little brother. Do you think the same of Yukio-kun? He may not express the markers of a demon as strongly, but by blood he _is_ a half-demon, or hanyou in your culture, Nephilim among demons and exorcists.”

“No,” Rin automatically denied. “That cry-baby couldn’t hurt a fly!”

Azazel had his doubts there. Rin may not know how to identify the hints himself, but Azazel could faintly feel callouses on the younger twin’s hands. Callouses not entirely due to the boy’s diligent scholarship.

Weapon training fit some of the patterns, especially as Azazel could distinguish the scars from training.

And of actual experience.

Not surprising if Fuijimoto Shiro was an exorcist. As someone with the sight, Yukio would benefit from a way to fight off the things he saw and would see him in turn.

As the humans say, when one looks into the abyss, you need to be careful as the abyss is also looking back at you.

But he was deviating from the point.

“Yukio and you were born of a human and are human in the ways that mattered,” Azazel firmly spoke once he saw Rin second-guess what he just said. “And humanity and being human are two different things. You know there are humans out there a little more than demons in of themselves. And you know there are inversely demons of the same ilk. Do you think the two of you are exceptions? No, you are what you choose to be and let no one convince you otherwise.”

“But-”

“In the words of your adoptive father, no buts, Rin.”

This wasn’t the last time they went over Rin’s moral dilemma. There were many times the younger prince would freeze out the older demon, building steel for mental walls.

Harder to breach given the King of Spirits airy disposition, not that he would unless he had dire reason.

Slowly, the demon king inducted Rin on various subjects he would need when his powers fully came online.

(They traveled to the center of Rin’s half of the mindscape. Dodging past the many natural defenses Rin unconsciously conjured to protect his most intimate of places, they found a sword buried up to the hilt in the ground. No amount of Rin tugging on it would free what Azazel sensed as the representative of Rin’s link to his sealed off powers. Eventually, Azazel scooped up the little boy, advising he quit trying to pull out the sword lest he somehow will his demonic powers to the surface in spite of the obvious seal on them).

Azazel taught everything from expanded lessons on demonology and physiology, to Gehenna’s geography and political structure (Rin nearly cried as Azazel explained every king seemed to differ in the way they managed their domains, and yes, the young half-demon would learn all eight plus the power structure of the royal family – their family).

It may not exactly be useful on Assiah, but it would be prudent should Rin ever find himself somehow on Gehenna or confronting the demons of Assiah. They didn’t hold as strongly to the proper demon etiquettes, Assiah-born ones, but they did understand on an instinctual level the demon hierarchy.

“So…in other words, might means right?”

“Unfortunately,” Azazel agreed with a grimace. “Gehenna is an unforgiving place, and that philosophy is perhaps one of the few constants between the eight domains and the capital. To survive and have a hope to go up the ladder, demons fight and devour one another to gain power above the ones they have at birth. As children of a god, we naturally have more power than any of them can ever hope to achieve.”

Rin had a contemplative look. “Wait…didn’t you say something about you being sixth? But you’re the second oldest!”

Azazel shrugged. “As you stated, power means the most among demons, but there’s little point in having power if you don’t openly display it. I don’t like fighting, but demons constantly fight for their place in Gehenna. As a result, I go too easy on my younger siblings, so only the truly weakest of them are ranked below me. Our brother Amaimon in particular is not very impressed with his position below my own. But my minimal efforts are enough; as I taught you, a battle is not decided on strength alone. Neither he nor Astaroth are overly powerful among the eight kings, so I can get away with ending most confrontations by being smart and redirecting their attacks. Unfortunately, the others are nearly as fast, as clever, or as skilled.”

“They end up beating you up,” Rin stated, almost accusingly.

Azazel had nothing to say against the supposition, it _was_ correct. Lucifer was the eldest and most powerful in all cases; Samael was far too clever for his own good; Egyn knew his powers and could be very adaptive; Iblis was explosive and fast; and Beezlebub knew how to survive and thrive in the worst of circumstances like his own kin.

Azazel lost, as his young brother would put it, damn badly.

Then it was a good thing a mild personality went along with a very relaxed stance on status. Azazel didn’t really care about politics personally in relation to his own rank among demons. The elder demon was still a force among the lesser demons and a flex of his powers sent just about every one of them scurrying.

Honestly, Father aside (who knew what the extent of impetuous Demon God’s knowledge of everything going on in _his_ world?), only Lucifer and his kin saw the truth: the Spirit King not struggling against his younger siblings but against his own great power he kept restrained.

Too kind and gentle for all his full-blooded heritage (it was no wonder he was the member of the Grigori during his time in the Order and not Samael).

Lucifer as the oldest and most powerful had gifts in sensory abilities. Plus, he knew the younger demon from when he was less inclined to back down so easily, before the fourth king’s birth and before Samael grew awareness of the world around him (so before he was one by demon’s standards).

As for his kin, well, they were his kin. They knew him in ways the other kings would never witness for themselves. Very few kings actually interacted and cared for their subjects like Azazel, to be completely frank.

Even then, only a few knew just how powerful Azazel with zero holds could be.

Added to that number was Rin who knew by courtesy of the power constantly humming from the elder demon’s mind.

Rin kind of got what the Spirit King was saying, but he was an active ten-year-old at this point. He only had so much maturity and less as much wisdom.

The most important part was that Rin didn’t think any less of the demon king for being cowardly.

It did amuse Azazel quite greatly when Rin stated if the Spirit King won’t fight back then he wasn’t much different from Yukio. And as the more demonic (behavior-wise) brother, he would fight for both of them!

Rin did not look amuse as the demon ruffled his hair after his declaration.

(“Damn it, I’m being serious!”)

(“Rin-kun, I’m several millennia or older than you, I think I can handle a little roughhousing from my _younger_ brothers. And you are not picking a fight with Amaimon as soon as you see him, he’s seventh for the sake of Assiah and Gehenna. You’re ten and currently human.”)

They both knew the clock kept ticking on, closer and closer to when Azazel’s last comment would no longer be true.

Rin was half-demon, the son of Satan. No seal could keep his heritage away forever, not as completely as now.

Something had to give, and Azazel gave the blue-haired child until sometime in his teenage years, a major point of growth and change, especially for Nephilim children who began to come fully into their demonic heritage.

Roughly eleven years have passed since Azazel’s mind came to be in young Rin’s head.

Eight years since they first communicated.

Six years Rin learned of his true heritage.

Fifteen years old, and Rin’s world drowned in blue flames.


	3. Crowns of Sapphire and Silver

_‘It wasn't your fault.’_ Today, Azazel’s whispered assurances did little to soothe Rin's temper.

Ever since the young half-demon finished junior high school, he has been tirelessly trying to find a job.

Rin had his flaws. He had a hard time waking up in the morning if he didn't have his mental alarm clock of an older brother to wake him up (mostly when Yukio had a prior engagement in the morning), but he was a teenaged boy. Many young demons had similar sleep cycles (or lack thereof).

Rin also had quite the temper, and they still had a lot of work to do on the young man's impulsiveness.

But, the young half-demon could learn, and he made strides into finding a balance in his life and mind every day, much to Azazel's satisfaction and soft praise. And when he put his mind and heart into something, Rin worked harder than anyone else.

One of the ways they came up to help curb some of Rin’s ever explosive energy was various arts and crafts. Rin already loved cooking, so why not?

This led to some very disastrous attempts at calligraphy (considering Rin’s henpecked normal writing, it was understandable), but a few pretty adequate starts in other fine and practical arts.

The older demon had every confidence Rin could make something of himself in human-Japanese society.

Both demon princes were very deliberately pushing aside the thought of the deadline hanging over the younger’s head and the reality that Rin had a nearly nonexistent chance of being like any other teenager seeking their own life after school.

However, they could not completely ignore how different Rin was _without_ the more obvious signs of demon lineage. He had some issues consistently regulating his strength for normal things, and it freaked out no few of his employers.

And there was always some child with a grudge against the teen. He might have mellowed over the years, but Rin was not someone to stand aside when there were people or innocents suffering and he could do something about it.

He was a lot like Azazel in that respect. He had a strong streak of very un-demon-like empathy for others.

Rin just had a lot less self-control, and he usually went with the fight part of his instincts.

Flight never really featured as an option unless someone else was on the line (like that cat bleeding out. Granted, Rin ran into those vile kids the next day and broke several bones. Azazel didn't reprimand the young demon too hard for that (he liked small animals himself).

And today was no exception. Another group of thugs beaten bloody after the kind-hearted boy spotted them hacking pigeon legs off.

 _Revolting._ Some humans were lost cases, he did agree with his brothers on that.

Azazel also had a bad feeling about the spiky-haired ringleader in particular. His aura screamed tainted and open for any higher demon to take for their own.

Of course, neither of Rin's family members could miss the blue-black haired teen coming home with scrapes and dirt stains.

Again, in so many days.

Azazel spoke softly as he felt Rin's temper spiked, but the two have been working on controlling the small sparks escaping through the seal, especially in the last few weeks.

The silver-haired man looked at the half-buried sword. Every day, more and more of the metal length slipped out of the ‘ground'.

_Soon. It will be soon. When whatever the priest did will shatter._

_When Rin can no longer be a simple human child._

* * *

The next day, Rin came to an abrupt stop just inside the monastery gates.

“What the hell…?”

The teen looked blankly at the black puffballs with eyes floating everywhere.

He knew what they were. The lowest demons of rot, coal tar. He has seen images of them courtesy of Aza-nii’s lessons.

But Rin has never seen them himself even though they were common demons found in urban areas.

 _‘It has begun,’_ the voice in his head whispered sadly. ‘ _Your powers are starting to fully manifest.’_

Not later. Not tomorrow. _Now._

_‘You should-'_

_‘No, Azazel.’_

The elder demon paused. Rin rarely used his proper name (the teen didn't have a head for complex or long names, definitely not Aria potential). When he did, Azazel would heed the younger man’s words.

‘ _Oyajii…Yukio and all the priests…I can't disappoint them again. Not after all they did – done - for me.’_

_Oh, Rin._

_‘Be careful,’_ warned the demon king. Then he stepped back, symbolically signaling his trust in the young hybrid.

Things escalated very quickly, much to the elder demon’s distress.

The delinquents from yesterday cornered Rin in some alleyway after the younger chose to listen to what their leader had to say.

Horns, tail, and claws marked the leader as in the process of being possessed. It usually took a while to fully possess someone (why his brothers loathed losing their previous bodies, they not only needed to find the right kind of victim to inhabit, they needed time to persuade and assimilate the body, too).

Azazel did not believe in coincidences. Rin just awoke his sight and some high-level demon – probably of rot by the way the coal tars flooded the dingy sidestreet – takes ahold of some petty and violent child Rin who so happened to have a grudge against his younger brother?

Despite his and Rin's efforts, some of the younger’s power must have slipped, drawing the attention of Southern Cross's demon populace.

And there were no worse gossips and busybodies than demons. His own kin were some of the worst facilitators. Babbling brook? Egyn’s kin couldn’t compare. The wind and spirits heard everything, traveled everywhere, and told everyone.

He really loved them all dearly, but the King of Spirits had to put his foot down after the whole Iblis/Egyn incident with those darn sirens and succubi.

In fact, if Azazel funneled more of himself into Rin’s developing sixth sense, the demon manifesting on Assiah felt rather fam-

_RIN!_

* * *

Rin was in deep shit. He let his guard down. The old man in his head always said the teen had a bad habit to underestimate people, take a situation too lightly, or lose his anger in all the wrong ways and at the worse times.

Like this shit show. Rin was held down by the two punks while the guy bad-mouthing Yukio was still blabbering on.

Who cared what this bastard thought?!

Things got bad. The guy pulled a knife and held it increasingly close to Rin's face.

“You know Okumura? Why don't I do you favor for your big day? For an interview, you really need to have the right look, and your hair isn't really doing you any good.” The demon's possession was almost complete as more and coal tars gathered, and the punk looked less and less human.

“I might slip and cut your head instead, but you understand, right?”

_I'm going to die. I'm going to die, I'mgoingtodie, I'MGOINGTODIE-!_

_‘RIN!’_

Blue. Bright blue light more brilliant than the bluenet ever made before burst into his vision.

Distantly, a part of him registered the sheen of silver-white added to the edge of the fire.

Astaroth. It was Astaroth, the weakest of demon kings despite being the sixth born, but still the Demon _King_ of Rot.

Rin stood no chance with his minimal control over his demon powers, rendered nearly useless with recent developments.

“Come with me, Young Lord…! I will take you His Eminence who will surely wish to finally meet you – Satan-sama!”

This nut was his brother? He knew Azazel told him Astaroth was probably the more devoted of his brothers in regard to their shared parent and god…but hearing the elder demon speak of it didn’t nearly compare to seeing the fanatic light in those demon-red eyes, the utter reverence in Astaroth’s tone.

The last thing Rin wanted was to take the guy’s hand and go off into a mess-up sunset to Gehenna, thank you very much!

Blue flames began to close around him, directed by Rin’s ire.

Astaroth drew back on reflex, but then he got a determined look in his face.

Shit, the demon king was going to go serious mode like in some of his manga, wasn’t he?

“Evil dwell within his heart…”

The demon-possessed boy’s head snapped to the side so quickly, Rin worried he might have just snapped something.

-wait…that voice…

“O Lord, let each be judge according to his deeds…”

A familiar figure in priest vestments stood, head held high and fearless.

Astaroth snarled. “Y-you-!”

“…Smite them that they never shall rise again!”

“Shut up. Shut up, shutup, SHUT YOUR DIRTY FILTHY MOUTH, EXORCIST!!!” the demon screamed as he lunged at the unarmed man.

Rin gaped as the old man single-handedly took on the demon king chanting the whole time.

 _Aria…got to be Aria, they’re the blabbermouth-type exorcists_ Rin concluded. Fit considering the old man was really smart for all his antics.

_If only I was there…!_

Azazel breathed a sigh of relief even as he instinctively drew back as the almost sweet-tasting and pure Aria magic flowed and banished his younger brother back to Gehenna.

It was Father Fujimoto, of course. Azazel knew the man was powerful or knew powerful people – was he one of his Nephilim?!

With Rin’s new senses, Azazel could feel a strange sense of kinship with the old human. But there was something odd…he didn't have any living sons, but the sense of familiarity was too strong for a descendent.

 _Whatever he is to me,_ Azazel decided he should put aside the mystery onto his growing stack of things he still did not know, _he must be at least one of the four great knights or maybe even the Paladin himself._ A demon king couldn’t be so easily banished by any old Aria; they had to have an inherent amount of faith and power behind their words.

Even then, the demon king won’t just leave unless their hold on their vessel (and thus, Assiah) was already tenuous such in the cases of terrible injuries, sickness, or being only recently manifested like Astaroth.

Father Fujimoto was very lucky, indeed.

Rin didn’t know what to say. He stayed unusually silent as his father explained stuff he already knew.

“Rin, do you understand what I’m saying?”

The blue-haired teen nodded. He didn’t trust what would come out of his mouth, otherwise.

“Okay, because we can’t afford for you to space out now. Come on, we need to hurry! Right now, all sorts of demons will be coming after you, some to take you to Gehenna while others hope to take your power for their own!” the old man explained gravely. “We need to take you to a safe place where they can’t find you…!”

Demons swarmed around them, and the blue-eyed boy gaped as his father-figure shot them with barely a glimpse at the hordes dogging their heels or running into their path.

Rin knew the old man had to be an exorcist. An ordinary high priest didn't make that many house calls or had several meetings stretching sometimes over a month through the year. Then there was the unattended paperwork in the old man's office when the brothers occasionally reorganized for the tired out or absent man.

Not to mention the emergency weapon caches Rin found stockpiled with guns, swords, demon books, and heavy canisters Aza-nii warned had high-grade holy water. Not toxic to the sealed demon prince (even if sharing mental space with a full demon), but Rin should develop a healthy avoidance of the stuff just in case (Aza-nii, the worrywort, also had Rin memorize the odd pure smell to it as a precautionary measure – who knew holy water smelled different than regular water?).

So, it wasn't that bad of a surprise. The old man was even a badass of an exorcist, too.

But when he told Rin he was the son of Satan…

He didn't explode exactly. He felt numb.

Azazel bit at his long nails as the nearly drawn out sword shuddered. The mindscape was unnaturally still, the ‘floor’ and ‘wall’ design clouding darkly.

A prelude to a storm long since due.

The mystery of Rin and Yukio's birth plagued the elder demon ever since he found out. And he always had his suspicions for what kind of guardian, an exorcist no less, would take in his youngest brothers.

Fujimoto Shiro had to know something.

This whole situation honestly felt like something one particular demon, his most insidious and flamboyant of brothers, would cook up.

* * *

Rin and Father Fujimoto finally arrived at the monastery. Azazel and Rin widened their eyes as the old priest unveiled the very sword they have been sporadically searching for over the past year.

(The sword mirrored in the mindscape trembled as the demon halfling drew closer to his sealed demon heart).

Kurikara. A single glance told the demon king it was a type of Komaken, a demon-slaying blade built to harness the power of demons housed within it. If Rin had better control, he would hear the echoes of the previous demon of fire to once lend the sword their power like Azazel could.

Samael was definitely involved. The key’s ability definitely pointed out the King of Time and Space who alone had that kind of magic.

When his dad started going on about how Rin had to leave the monastery, would be the responsibility of someone else…

Rin snapped.

“SCREW ALL OF THIS!” the teen screamed.

“Rin, you have to understand, the danger you’re in-!”

“I know.”

Shiro froze. “What?”

“I know. I always knew. When I was just a snot-nosed brat, I met a demon. Another son of Satan.”

“Rin, you met one of the demon kings? Who?!”

The young demon prince snarled, “Does it matter? They told me about demons, about exorcists, and about my heritage after they saw small blue sparks and my eyes go all funky. They told me about how Satan went insane, and I would never be safe once my powers started to awaken. But you know? They didn’t have to tell me about you being some bigshot exorcist. I found out myself after putting together enough pieces. I always thought it was weird you were gone all the time on house calls. I know you’re a head priest, but how many people really believe in possessions and demons these days?”

“I-…I-”

“Don’t waste your breath, Oyajii! There’s no turning back. Once my powers start to awake, I can’t go back to an ordinary life. I’ll always be chased to the ends of the earth because I’m the freaking son of Satan!”

“So-”

“Don’t!” Rin screamed, pushing Father Fujimoto away. “Don’t call me that! Not when you haven’t been honest with me. What am I to you? Some sort of weapon you’ve been grooming? That’s probably the only way you would have been able to keep me. What about Yukio? He’s always busy with school, but I’ve been taking Aniki’s lessons to heart. Why does Yukio end up in the hospital so much when we were younger? Why does he move like he knows how to fight? Does everyone but me deserve to know the truth?”

Azazel cursed. He should have pressed more when Rin’s mind grew oddly quiet sometimes, looking at his twin as if seeing something else he didn’t realize before. He should have known his combat lessons would leak into Rin’s natural observation skills, too. It only took the right push, a radical thought, for Rin to start to piece together the truth.

And Rin has been bottling up his suspicions for years probably.

 “Rin…”

“Father Fujimoto!” one of the priests yelled, coming into the room. “We’re surround-”

Screams bellowed from the chapel.

They all rushed out. The unlit candelabras and candlesticks blazed. All around, men doubled over as blue fire scalded them, a toxic presence scouring the room for a viable body.

Azazel felt himself stilled.

For the first time in perhaps centuries, he would be in the active and conscient presence of his father.

 _Rin_ would be meeting their sire.

* * *

Shiro should have seen the signs. Rin has been withdrawing from them all for years now. Sometimes, the old priest would catch the young man staring at him with an indiscernible look. In another blink, the look would be gone. He dismissed it as a figment of a stressed and tired mind.

He shouldn’t have. He should have tried looking deeper.

Maybe then he would have caught the demon king who had been interacting with Rin for God knows how long. Years, it sounded like.

His priests and comrades were burning, not unlike that night so long ago.

He failed them.

And he failed Rin.

He promised he would protect both boys, but what Rin said hurt.

Was he raising a pair of boys? Or was he subconsciously creating a pair of weapons for the good of Assiah?

Self-loathing and self-condemnation whittled at his own mental barriers, turning them brittle no matter how he tried to harden his heart.

The steely walls cracked. Blue fire gleefully seeped into the imperfect surface, widening the cracks into gaping holes.

“Aah!”

The overwhelmed teenager stilled. “Oyajii?”

“Rin! Get away from me!”

 _‘Rin, listen to him! It’s-!_ ’

“ **Finally.”**

“Oya-?”

His eyes. Those weren’t his dad’s eyes. The pupils twisted and turned red.

“ **Son…so long have I waited**.”

“You-! What did you do to my dad?!”

The demon possessing the old man laughed shrilly. “ **Ha! Just kidding! You think this _human_ is your father? Ridiculous. I am your father! The one and only god of Gehenna, Satan! But if you want, you can call me Papa!** ”

Fanged teeth, elongated ears, and blood.

So much blood pouring from his father’s eyes, nose…everywhere.

A memory.

_(‘Rin, there is a reason our sire must never come to rule Assiah as he does Gehenna. And why you must be careful. He destroys most bodies he tries to possess. However, yours or Yukio’s would probably be the exceptions. They have a natural predisposition to the blue flames. And as children of Assiah, you would not be so easily banished like a full-blooded demon._

_That is why you must never give in to our sire. By his very nature, he will destroy this world, twisting it into another Gehenna where demons run amok, and darkness is cast over all the known lands.’)_

Satan has possessed his father. And that would mean…

_‘Rin, get ahold of yourself. You must not give into despair!’_

“ **Hey, there, _son._ My, how you’ve grown. Aren’t you happy? The big man of Gehenna _himself_ have come to pick you up and take you home. So, _cheer up, already,_** ” the high demon king tittered.

The distorted and high-pitched voice had the teen’s hackles and hair raised. Even the King of Spirits and Air couldn’t keep calm, the mindscape bristling with their combined unease and tension.

The demon shook his head then looked curiously as his hand. The high voice deepened suddenly. “ **While I would love to catch up with you, we have places to be. This guy’s body isn’t going to last much longer at this rate.”**

Rin gasped as the demons just casually tore off several fingers.

_‘Blood sacrifice. Rin, you have to get out of there! Father is going to-!’_

From where the blood flowed, a rectangle took shape. The air grew dense with miasma, and the shadows seems to come alive.

The Gate of Gehenna was worse in person than anything Azazel had ever shown him. Distorted faces and eyes crawled and reached from some unknown abyss.

When Satan reached for him, Rin acted defensively, willing his flames to flare high.

Satan just laughed at him. **“What was that?! Did you just piss yourself or something? Pathetic, though, you get an A for effort. Quit fucking around and get in the gate! It’s time for you to come home and regain your true power as a demon!** ”

“I said, fuck off, already!” Rin lashed out with his flames, but they did nothing against their progenitor, the original blue flame user. “I am not a demon! I’m human!”

It was no use. Satan knocked him down and then dragged him over to the gate.

He was monologuing again.

**“You know, kid? I’m this perfect being with power way beyond the scope of your feeble mind could imagine. But you know, it ain’t quite all that. I just lack this one little bitty thing…substance. I can’t manifest in Assiah without my body burning up in seconds, maybe minutes if I’m lucky. Everything in this world I touch is doomed to destruction, in other words…! Like this body…! Or that mother of yours…!”**

_…What…?!_

His dad never talked about the twins’ mother. He said a lot of vague stuff, but in the end he always ended up changing the subject or getting the boys distracted by something or other.

They didn’t even know her name.

This guy…his father didn’t even seem to care what happened to her, either.

He and Yukio were mistakes. Something created out of a demon god’s whim. But now that he found them useful, he would gladly destroy their lives if it meant succeeding in taking over their world.

…hell, no!

When Satan threw him, Rin threw his legs out, barely straddling above the gate’s opening, feet sinking a little, but at least he wasn't in the middle of that grossness.

**“Oh, so you know some gymnastics. Good for you. A bit sissy, but it shows initiative! But now that daddy seen how good you are at splits…hurry the hell up and get into the portal!”**

A ball of blue fire hurled toward one of his legs. Out of reflex, Rin tried to roll out of the way.

He fell into the gate.

Azazel shuddered as he felt the oily crawling sensation of the Gehenna Gate trying to suck them down into the hell dimension.

There really was nothing he could do, was there?

“Someone, help me!”

**“Lovely, birth cries! Rejoice, for this marks the day of your rebirth as a demon, kid! Happy birthday and welcome to Gehenna~”**

Azazel was the Demon King of Spirits. He could reach out to others through the world of dreams, had skills over the mind none of the others hoped to ever match, even if they didn’t see the worth in combat since it rendered the body useless.

But, the thing was, Azazel didn’t have a body now, did he?

He reached across the mental planes. Reached for other’s mind, an untapped connection born of kinship.

_…_

_‘Let me help.’_

_…!_

_‘Let me help, or Rin will be lost!’_

“ **Enough.”**

Satan choked as the voice of Father Fujimoto Shiro interrupted his laughter. But it wasn’t quite the exorcist alone. There was an odd echo as something old spoke in sync with the Paladin.

“ **You are not welcomed in this body. Begone, evil spirit!”** Azazel and Shiro declared. Father Fujimoto took out his cross and stabbed himself close to the heart.

Silver flame danced along the length of silver.

Glowing eyes of silver and red rings stared at something unseen in defiance.

As quickly as it appeared, the glow from the man’s eyes disappeared.

“Satan, this boy is _my_ son…! And I would die first than let you have him!”

Silver-white overcast Rin’s blue flames once more.

Wind lashed around the priest protectively as Azazel reached for more power than he ever dared since waking up in Rin’s body.

 _I won’t let you ruin him! This is Okumura Rin, demon_ and _human! And he’s not your possession!_

A glowing blue orb of fire manifested into a vaguely human shape.

 ** _“Ohoho? What’s this? An ally? Why, it’s my dearest and least violent child, finally woken up. And here I thought you were just being lazy then a truant when you vanished altogether. Never knew you had this in you, kid! Maybe there is hope for ya, my formerly spineless son! This won’t be the end, you know. I_ will _take Assiah for my own. I’ll be back…for_ both of you!**”

The will-o-wisp dispersed.

Father Fujimoto collapsed, the remnants of demonic power from the demon king doing only so much despite physical compatibility.

In the mindscape, Azazel half-collapsed on himself, unable to muster the strength to even try to speak mentally.

Silver fire winked out of existence.

Rin was on his own.

The blue-haired teen howled in utter anger and frustration and fear. No matter how much he struggled, he couldn’t break free! His flailing hand brushed against wood.

The sword Kurikara. The container for his Demon Heart.

If he drew the sword, his path would be set.

His dad said to never draw the sword under any circumstance if he wanted to stay human.

 _But was he really just human right now?_ He could see demons. He had a demon king in his head. He could manifest Satan’s flames without access to his proper power.

His path was _already_ decided, wasn’t it?

No matter what, Rin would be a fugitive.

It was a matter of whether he would be a dangerous one or not.

That wasn’t really a decision then, would it?

Rin refused to be weak, to run. There were people depending on him. Right now, his dad was in no shape to fight if lower demons and even some higher demons passed through the gate while Rin was dragged into Gehenna.

No matter what he chose, he would never be human.

Not fully.

You could hide something with all the accessories and paints you wanted, but that didn’t change what something was inside.

Rin lunged for the sheathed sword.

“Don’t you dare die on me, yet, Oyajii!”

Flames roared.

The black crawling miasma and distorted shapes making up Gehenna Gate shattered and burned.


End file.
